


And The Winner Is...

by astrangerenters



Series: Yokoso Wagaya e [1]
Category: Yokoso Wagaya e, Yokoso Wagaya e (J drama)
Genre: Awards, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Post-Series, Series Spoilers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asuka is nominated for an award, and Kenta attends the ceremony with her.</p><p>Spoilers for the entire series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Winner Is...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicefinalbeam (sparkleboom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleboom/gifts), [thoroughlynerdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoroughlynerdy/gifts).



> This is set post-episode 10 (ignoring the last minute LOL).

“Unusable.”

“Unusable.”

“Maybe! Or no.”

“Definitely not!”

Kenta took a deep breath, his finger hovering shakily in the air over his mouse. “Kanie-san,” he said, trying to keep it together. “Shall we go with the previous one?” At least he hadn’t hated that one.

 _En-Suta_ ’s editor-in-chief let out an unnecessarily lengthy sigh before throwing his hands up in the air. “Do whatever you like, Kurata-chan! But stop taking so many safe photos! Wow me next time!”

As Kanie-san headed back to the pleasures of the jigsaw puzzle he was far more interested in, Kenta tried not to crack a smile. This volume’s top story was about a water aerobics class made up entirely of senior citizens, and Kenta had paid a visit to one of their lively sessions at the local indoor pool. Though his text had already been approved, Kanie-san had spent most of the morning disliking all of the photos Kenta wanted to use with the article. 

He’d shot at least a hundred and fifty photos of the seniors in their various aquatic poses, happy smiles, arms outstretched, the peppy instructor encouraging and cheerful. It had taken two hours to whittle down the photos to a handful, and now had come time for the lead image. Of the four challengers, it seemed number 3 - a smiling 86 year old great-grandmother who’d lived in Koenji her entire life - had met Kanie’s begrudging approval. In the last several weeks of his new, expanded role at En-Town Publications, Kenta was still adjusting to the notion that a “Maybe” from his flippant, quirky editor was the closest he would ever get to a “Yes.”

Sometimes he wondered how Asuka-san had put up with him for so long. Then again, Asuka seemed far more skilled at understanding Kanie’s perspective, as bizarre as it always was. He envied her that, especially because the only advice she’d offered Kenta before moving on to her new job was to “just give Kanie-san what he wants,” which was usually impossible to determine.

As Kanie set to work on his puzzle, Kenta got picture 3 settled into its prominent place, saving his layout and closing out the editing program. Before he could gather his lunch of leftovers from the small fridge in the cluttered office, the door opened without so much as a knock first.

“Intruders!” Kanie squealed, but when Kenta swiveled in his chair, he discovered that the opposite was true.

“It’s not an intruder,” he said, getting to his feet and grinning. 

Kanie poked his head around the corner. “Oh, it’s just Nasuka-chan.”

“It’s Asuka,” she replied, in the same unoffended tone she usually did. 

“Nobody at my new job calls me Nasuka,” she’d lamented in an email to Kenta just the other day. “Do I miss it or am I just going mad?”

“What brings you over here?” he asked as Asuka opened the brown interior door of the office, stepping into the confines of En-Town for the first time in a few weeks. Her new position as a staff writer with _Tokyo Talker_ magazine kept her fairly busy. 

“First Koenji, then Tokyo, then the world…maybe,” she had declared during her going away party a month earlier. She was still writing local stories, sure, but at least she was discovering that there was an entire world outside of Koenji. She was probably getting to cover bigger stories than Granny and Gramps doing jumping jacks in the shallow end.

She settled quickly into the chair Kenta had just vacated, spinning around playfully with an enigmatic smile on her face. He stood back, watching the black fringe on her purse jostle around as she moved. Finally he got a little sick watching her spin and turned away. He eventually heard the slap of her sneakers against the floor. She wanted to get down to business.

“I was here to ask Editor-in-Chief something,” she said, making sure her voice carried across the room to Kanie-san.

“If Nasuka-chan wants to take pictures at the pool, I’m sure they’d be better than Kurata-chan’s!” Kanie cheered.

Asuka raised a curious eyebrow in Kenta’s direction. He shook his head and sighed, crossing his arms to form an ‘X,’ begging her not to ask about it. When it came to _En-Suta_ , Kanie compared Kenta’s work ethic and output to Asuka’s in almost every way, now that she wasn’t here to pretty much put the entire issue together herself.

“Actually, I wanted to ask about the twenty-third annual Tokyo Magazine Writers’ Guild Awards.”

Kanie got to his feet, holding one of his puzzle pieces to his face, tapping it against his mouth. “Oh, has something happened?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m nominated for one of them.”

“Oh? Really? Congratulations!” Kenta said, smiling, but Asuka seemed more miffed than proud.

“Care to explain why that is, Editor-in-Chief?”

Kanie barked out a laugh. “It was only the greatest article in the history of articles, Nasuka-chan! I made sure to write a glowing review of it when I submitted the application. My opinion means a lot to people who are in guilds and give awards and such…”

“Editor-in-Chief!” Asuka protested.

“Do you not want the award? What’s going on?” Kenta asked, leaning back against the sink behind his messy workstation.

“I would not have submitted that one,” Asuka said. “If you’d only said something, I could have chosen a story that better represents my talents.”

For the briefest of moments, Kenta wondered if Kanie-san had sent in one of the stories Asuka had written about his family. But even Kanie-san wouldn’t be so insensitive to do that without asking permission from the Kurata family. Asuka explained that Kanie-san had submitted an article she’d written about students at one of the local junior high schools, how they had banded together to participate in a charity race for cancer research after one of their classmates was diagnosed with leukemia. From the sounds of it, Kenta was certain Asuka had done a brilliant job. He couldn’t imagine anything better to submit than a story like that. A heartstring tugger, that one, definitely.

“You’re going to win,” Kanie-san said, saying nothing else before heading to the bathroom and shutting the door, no doubt due for one of his lengthy sessions within.

Asuka laid her head down on the work table, thumping her forehead. “Out of everything I’ve written,” she complained, sighing. “Hundreds of thousands of words!”

He patted her shoulder gently. “Well, if you don’t win the award, you can rub it in Kanie-san’s face, couldn’t you? And then submit something else next year that will surely win.”

He heard her chuckle a little, though she didn’t move from her strange position. Leaning forward in such a way, it made her thin gray t-shirt ride up her back the slightest bit, exposing her pale skin and offering an unexpected view of a pair of bright pink underwear just peeking out from the waistband of her jeans. He looked away as quickly as he could once he noticed, wondering if Asuka knew (or cared) that he could see. Kenta was suddenly grateful his mother wasn’t here to catch the blush he could feel spreading to the tips of his ears.

Kenta felt Asuka’s absence quite keenly during the day now, spending most of his days at _En-Suta_ solely in Kanie-san’s strange company or out on a job. She visited the house at least once a week, though, and most of that was his mother’s doing. He’d come home and find Asuka parked comfortably at the dining table, already pouring a beer for his father before he could even say “I’m home.” To his parents, to Nana, Asuka was an expected presence. A good friend, or, in his mother’s case, the future bearer of her grandchildren.

But to Kenta, the definition of Asuka in his life was still a bit muddled. She’d been at his side during the hardest time in his life, and he’d be grateful to her forever, for the myriad ways she’d helped him to keep his family safe. But sometimes Kenta himself didn’t quite know what he felt about her. What the expectations were, coming home to find his sister and Asuka giggling over a TV show, huddled close on the loveseat. Everything was out of order where Asuka was concerned. Usually when you dated someone, you got to know them first, got comfortable with them before introducing them to your family. Kandori Asuka as honorary Kurata family member was a foregone conclusion, and Kenta was the one slow on the uptake.

For most of their time together, when the quest to find Nameless-san had dominated everything, she’d been a partner, a loyal companion in a quest for the truth. But now that things had gotten back to normal, now that Kenta had a life and livelihood again, not spending every waking moment worrying about his mother and sister’s safety, he had more time to consider Asuka as something other than a sidekick. And he’d discovered that what he felt for her now, after giving it considerable thought…well, it wasn’t very sidekick-y at all. Ever since she’d broken down that night outside his house, confessing her fears and anxieties right along with her love for his family, he’d realized that there were more facets to Asuka than he’d even known.

So if he had feelings for her, as more than a colleague, as more than a friend, what were they? Why did he have them? Did he like Asuka because he felt that he owed her, for everything she’d done to help him? Did he like Asuka because his mother was already several steps ahead, planning out their “inevitable” life together? Or did he like Asuka because he simply liked her and knowing that his family already adored her was just a great bonus?

“Kurata-san.”

He looked up, jolting a bit from his thoughts, only to discover that at some point Asuka had gotten out of her chair and come over to stand in front of him, closer than he wished she would, if only because it made things even more confusing. “Yeah?”

“I had something to ask Editor-in-Chief. I had something to ask you too.” She looked at her watch and frowned. “I only have ten minutes before I need to be on a train to cover a craft fair in Edogawa.”

He was having trouble focusing, with Asuka standing close and crowding him against the sink. He sometimes wondered if she did that because she knew it made him uncomfortable. She’d never had much of a problem putting herself into his space without an invite (and much as it pained him to admit it, he’d always liked it more than she’d ever know).

“Craft fair, huh?”

“These Guild Awards,” she said, looking up at him with her mischievous eyes. “I was going to ask your permission first, if I could have your father escort me.”

“What?” he spluttered. “My dad?”

She smiled, and it lit up her face in the best way. “Well, Nana-chan always has to go to bed early now with her new job, and your mother’s already turned me down. So I thought, hmm, perhaps a handsome older man would turn some heads at this ceremony…even if I don’t win, I’ll certainly get people talking.”

Whoa, had he read her wrong this entire time?! She was always doting on his father at the dinner table, but he’d always thought she was just being kind. His dad? His average, banker-boring, conflict-dodging old man? “Wait wait, you want my _dad_ to go to the award ceremony with you?”

Asuka laughed, and she gave his cheek a condescending pat. There was the slightest waver to her smile as she touched him, and she backed away, adjusting the strap of her purse against her shoulder. “I’m just joking! I’m messing with you, Kurata-san. I wanted to ask _you_ to come.”

“Oh?”

She waved her hand, heading for the door, seeming nonchalant about the whole thing. “I’ll send you the details, okay?”

Without even waiting for him to say yes or no, she left him standing in the middle of the office, more confused than ever.

—

The award ceremony was in three days. Asuka still had not bothered to ask if he actually wanted to go, plowing right through with the assumption that he was coming anyhow. She had sent along a place to meet her and a time, saying only that he had to “dress like a gentleman.” Not knowing quite what that meant, especially in Asuka-speak, he’d looked up the website for the awards.

To Kenta’s surprise, it wasn’t just some little gathering, but an apparently prestigious event, one of the most lauded writing awards in Japan. He’d clicked on the nominees list, finding over a dozen categories. He found Asuka’s name listed among three other nominees in a category titled “Local Coverage - Human Interest,” and he’d felt a swell of pride in his chest seeing her name there. This was a big deal. A really big deal. 

But in typical Asuka fashion, she’d been rather casual about the whole thing, chiding Kanie-san for the article he’d selected. Teasing Kenta before asking him to go with her. This night ought to be super important to her, a major achievement. Asuka, who’d pursued writing since she was a little girl. What did it mean, that she’d invited him to go with her?

Did it count as a date if he was attending as her…date? Plus one? Her ‘guest,’ the website officially declared it. 

Clicking through photos from the previous year’s ceremony, he was relieved to discover that it wasn’t extremely formal. He’d spent the past few days freaking out that he’d have to not only rent a tuxedo, but then actually wear it. Men in attendance the year before were still in suits and ties or a sport coat at the very least, but he could manage that. Digging through his clothes, he realized that the last time he’d worn a suit had been over a year ago when the family had gotten their photo taken (and then only because one of his mother’s friends had told her about some online coupon deal for a family shoot).

The jacket still fit him fine, but the button on his slacks had somehow vanished between him leaving the photography studio and shoving them in a closet. He’d made it so far without telling his mother where he was going, but now he had no choice. In that moment, Kenta regretted never listening during the many occasions where his mother had offered to teach him some very basic mending skills.

Instead, slacks in hand and dressed for work that day, he trudged down the stairs. His mother was humming to herself, frying up some eggs while the news broadcast blared out of the TV set. Since she was busy in the kitchen, he suspected that Nana’s morning segment was already complete. His dad had yet to dress for the day, was busy teasing the cat with one of the new feather toys he’d bought for it.

He took a deep breath and approached.

“Good morning, Kenta!” his mother cheered, tending to her frying pan and not even looking at him. 

“Morning,” called his father from the living room.

“Morning.” He held up the slacks, trying to look indifferent. “I’m missing a button on these. Would it be too much trouble for you to fix it?”

“Of course it’s no trouble.” She looked up, smiling her usual smile. “Oh, I haven’t seen you wear those in a while!”

 _Please don’t ask_ , he tried to mentally convince her. _Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask…_

“What’s the occasion?”

He plastered on a smile. Way to go, Kenta. And the last thing he’d ever been good at was lying to his mother’s face. “It’s Asuka-san actually.”

His mother’s expression grew confused. “Asuka-chan’s going to wear your clothes?”

“No,” he said, already wishing he’d just gone to the store and bought a brand new suit entirely. His mother always blurted out the strangest things. “No, fixing the slacks is so I can wear them. But Asuka got nominated for a writing award, so I’m going with her to the ceremony. It’s in three days, so that’s why I’m asking you now, Mom.”

But it was already too late. She was divvying up the eggs onto plates, squealing a bit as she worked with her spatula. “Oh Kenta, that’s wonderful!” She gave him a wink. “Wonderful that she’s been nominated, I mean.”

That was not what she meant at all, but his father didn’t seem to pick up on it, having left Gasu behind with the toy to come over and pat him on the shoulder. “A writing award! Well deserved, I’m sure!”

Kenta remembered Asuka’s dumb joke about having his dad as her guest, and he shuddered a bit. “I’ll just put this by your sewing basket, Mom. Thanks,” he mumbled.

The breakfast that followed was agonizing. His father asked serious questions about the awards, questions he could have easily found the answers to if he just went to their website, while his mother was over the moon that her dear, unmarried son was to attend such a fancy event on the arm of his girlfriend. This time he didn’t even bother to complain about her enthusiasm for the non-relationship he was in, munching on his toast instead while she went on and on, talking mostly to herself. 

“I’m going to read her article today, that’s what I’ll do when I finish with that button,” his mother vowed. “Then I can offer my own praise.”

“Better than any literary critic,” his father chimed in, and Kenta found the both of them positively obnoxious.

“I better get to work,” he finally said, carrying his plate to the kitchen before his mother could snatch it away. “Lots to do.”

Kenta didn’t even make it to lunch before Nana was pestering him, yelling at him through a series of frowny-face emojis for not having told her about Asuka’s achievement. “She hasn’t won anything yet!” he sent back to his sister.

“Gosh, why did she even invite you? You’re such a downer!” Nana had fired back.

Now that Kurata family members Father, Mother, and Daughter all knew what was up, Kenta didn’t stand a chance. This was a date alright, and whatever he (or Asuka) thought about it didn’t much matter.

—

The ceremony was being held at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel near Nihonbashi, and Kenta felt nervous simply for loitering inside, waiting for Asuka’s arrival. He half expected someone to come over and ask him to leave any moment. The ceremony was starting in twenty minutes, and she’d already sent him a message that her train had been delayed and she’d left the station to get in a taxi instead. He paced back and forth, hoping she’d hurry and show up already.

He finally stopped walking around, standing next to a fancy fern that probably cost more than all the flowers his mother had planted in her lifetime. Other ceremony attendees and their guests filtered in, being directed by the hotel staff and the event organizers to elevators nearby to take them to the “Grand Ballroom” on the third floor. He suspected it would be more “grand” than he was used to and his worries increased. He was here to support Asuka, and this really had nothing to do with him. But still, he didn’t want to embarrass her. 

Nana and his mother had snapped at least a dozen photos of him before he left the house, humiliation he willingly endured because at the very least they hadn’t followed him here. “Onii-san, how handsome!” Nana had declared. “Kind of creeps me out. I’m used to you in sweatpants.”

His mother had attached the new button to his slacks, and his suit fit just fine. He’d let his mother select a white dress shirt and a forest green tie for him. He’d only found out just before he’d left the house that she had asked Asuka what color dress she was wearing and had thus chosen his tie to best complement her. He’d spent half the train ride to the hotel debating whether he ought to ditch the tie entirely. 

There was a boisterous laugh close by, and he was startled a bit, seeing a middle-aged man on his way to the elevator bank with some of his colleagues, slapping each other on the back. Watching them walk off, he almost missed the sound of a pair of high heels tapping the tile right next to him.

“Good evening, Kurata-san.”

He looked over, and his mind went totally blank. He’d spent hours in Asuka’s company, hours upon hours, and she’d always dressed comfortably. Jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a cardigan or a long top. He’d hardly ever seen her without sneakers on her feet or with her hair pulled back from her face. It was Asuka before him and not-Asuka at the same time, strange as that was.

She’d pulled her hair back in a bun, a few loose strands left out to frame her face, and she’d worn dark green, a sleeveless dress with a flared skirt that fell to her knees. With her heels on she was still shorter than him, but she didn’t have to put as much effort into looking up and meeting his eyes now. “Better than the picture!” she declared in her usual laid-back tone, which sounded almost foreign coming from this fancy new Kandori Asuka’s red lipsticked mouth.

“What picture?” he asked, and she reached into the little black handbag she’d brought along, taking out her phone. She had a rather satisfied smirk on her face when she showed him the screen. A photo sent to her from a person saved in her phone as “Kurata Keiko-san” with a heart mark beside it.

He winced at the sight of himself, backed against the living room wall with Nana almost holding him down and pointing with a knowing smile at his green tie. “I can’t believe she sent that to you…”

Asuka grinned, putting the phone away. “She actually sent me a very lovely email thanking me for getting you to dress up. The photo was a bonus!”

He figured he was already blushing the same color as her lipstick by now, so it couldn’t even hurt to say it. “Asuka-san, you look very pretty.”

She nodded, smoothing a hand over the fabric of her dress. “I do, don’t I?” A confident enough answer, though she started to walk away before saying anything else. 

He followed her to the elevators, heading up to the Grand Ballroom. The room was a large space with a few dozen round tables draped in white. Kenta had initially thought they’d be seated theater-style, but now they’d be sitting with other people. He could see people wandering to and fro, greeting one another, shaking hands. It seemed that a lot of the magazine writers knew each other. Most looked to be older than Kenta and Asuka, long established writers in their fields. As a staff member escorted them to one of the tables in the very rear corner of the ballroom, Kenta could see Asuka’s confidence plummet, saw her shoulders slump a little and her hand clutch tighter to her bag.

He moved ahead as soon as he spied name cards on the table for “Kandori Asuka and Guest,” holding out her chair for her. At this gesture, she turned to him with a bit of surprise on her face. He only nodded for her to sit down, and she did with a quiet “thanks.”

From their vantage point, they could see a raised dais at the front of the ballroom, a podium and microphone, a few screens set up with a silver Tokyo Magazine Writers’ Guild Awards logo against black. For a moment, Kenta thought he could do a much better job designing a new one, but his thoughts were interrupted by another couple sitting down to his left, an older man and his wife. They nodded politely, but otherwise seemed more preoccupied with talking to one another.

Slowly the guests all began to take their seats throughout the ballroom, and as Kenta and Asuka’s table filled, nobody went out of their way to introduce themselves and Asuka spent most of her time looking down at her phone, playing some sort of balloon popping game instead of making conversation. Asuka was usually good at talking to anyone, but it seemed her nervousness was winning out. While they weren’t serving a meal, banquet staff were going table to table with bottles of champagne, and for lack of anything better to do, Kenta started to drink his as the ceremony got underway, Asuka leaving hers untouched as she finally put her phone away.

According to the program, the category Asuka was nominated in would be announced third. He sat politely through the opening speeches from guild bigwigs, clapping when everyone else clapped, laughing when everyone else laughed at seemingly inside jokes he didn’t quite understand. The others at the table were turned in their seats, watching the dais intently. When Kenta looked to his right every few moments, he could only see Asuka with her pretty face, a piece of paper in her lap that she was unfolding and refolding quietly again and again.

He held in a smile. It was an acceptance speech, of that he was certain. Nervous as she was, Asuka had still come prepared to win, and in that moment, seeing her there at his side, a young writer in a sea of veterans, someone who probably worked as hard as them, as passionately as them, he wanted her to win. He wanted her to win the award so badly it hurt.

As the nominees for the first award were announced, a spotlight passed over the crowd, focusing on each nominee as their name was read while the audience clapped politely. He could almost feel the nervousness in Asuka skyrocket beside him, and though her face appeared calm, she kept playing with her piece of paper or smoothing her hands on her dress. She nearly knocked over her champagne flute, droplets falling onto the tablecloth as winner number one walked to the dais. As applause filled the room, she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“You can have mine, if you want.”

“You look like you could use it.”

He didn’t bother to dodge the light little punch she gave his arm, but he didn’t miss the tiny smile she showed briefly before returning to her fidgeting. They announced the second award, and like the first award before it, the winner who approached the stage was considerably older than Asuka was. Finally it was time for the third award, and Kenta was happy on Asuka’s behalf that it was scheduled so early in the program. If it was later on, he figured she’d accidentally rip her speech in half in her worry.

A woman approached the podium and started to speak, describing in turn each of the articles that Asuka was competing against. The first was a story about an elderly couple in Yokohama that had paid college tuition for at least a dozen children who couldn’t have otherwise afforded it. Asuka’s article was announced second, and as polite applause echoed through the room, the spotlight found her. Seeing this, the other people at their table finally seemed to pay attention and clapped for her almost as enthusiastically as Kenta was doing at her side.

He watched her offer a confident nod and a gentle smile, but as soon as the spotlight was gone, he watched her close her eyes, the paper speech in her lap fluttering down to the floor. When he bent a little, stretching out his fingers to pick it up for her, she grabbed his wrist. Without saying anything, he let her fingers drift down until she was squeezing his hand. Her hand was cold and clammy, but that didn’t really matter because she was holding his hand, and he was squeezing back.

She didn’t move, holding tightly to his hand while the woman at the podium read out descriptions of the other two nominated stories. He watched her, unable to look away even as the spotlight drifted around the room and the audience clapped for the nominees. _Please win_ , he prayed. _Please win, Asuka-san._

“And this year’s award for Outstanding Human Interest story at the local level goes to…”

—

She hadn’t wanted to leave the hotel quite yet, looking almost regal as she sat in one of the large chairs in the hotel lobby, watching some of the other guests depart. She’d been sitting there, unmoving, for at least fifteen minutes with her hands resting on the arms of the chair and her legs crossed at the ankles.

She’d opened her bag as soon as they’d left the ballroom, but she’d only had one sucker with her, lemon lime, and for some reason she’d given it to him. He’d already finished it, holding the little white stick between his fingers, sitting in a matching chair beside her, letting her do whatever she needed to do.

Asuka had let go of his hand just in time for the fourth nominee in her category to be announced the winner, and her applause had been no less enthusiastic than anyone else’s in the room. When she’d excused herself to use the washroom between the seventh and eighth announced awards, he’d finally gotten a chance to lean down and pick up her speech. To his surprise, the paper had been nearly empty. She’d written only:

_Thank you — Kenta-san, Editor-in-Chief, Papa_

He’d set the paper back on the floor and made no further move to pick it up during the remainder of the ceremony, and when they’d both gotten to their feet when the final award had been called, Asuka had left the paper behind. Kenta wasn’t sure if she’d simply forgotten that she’d dropped it or if the move was deliberate. Kenta was still a little bit shell-shocked from having been lumped in with the person who’d nominated her for the award and her own father, who had inspired her to pursue her career in the first place. 

As far as Kenta’s family still knew, Asuka’s parents were both alive and well, but Kenta knew that wasn’t true. He remembered the night she’d stayed over at the house, how he’d caught a glimpse of the photos she’d had in her bag. 

A woman who looked close to his parents in age approached a few minutes later. “Excuse me?” the woman asked, looking down at Asuka. “Kandori-san?”

Asuka looked up, blinking before remembering where she was. “Yes? Yes, I’m Kandori.”

The woman opened her small purse, pulling out a business card. Asuka took it from her hands. “My name is Hara Yukiko, I’m with _Croissant_ , the lifestyle magazine. Please forgive my presumption, but are you a relative of Kandori Takanori-san?”

Kenta saw shock register on Asuka’s face quickly before seeing a spark of life come back to her eyes. The usual Asuka spark that he liked so much. “Yes. Yes, I’m his daughter.”

Hara-san smiled. “I work for _Croissant_ now, but I knew him from university. We both worked for the campus newspaper. He was the best photographer on staff. How wonderful that his daughter is a journalist too! If it’s not too much trouble, could you convey my best wishes to him? I doubt he’d remember me, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Asuka said, still poised. “My father passed away several years ago.”

Hara-san raised a hand to her mouth, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry!”

Asuka just smiled. “Thank you, for thinking of him. I’m proud to follow in his footsteps.”

The woman was still embarrassed, offering Kenta a nervous smile to avoid looking at Asuka for a moment. Finally, she bowed her head. “I’ll always cherish the time I spent working on the newspaper. Takanori-san was truly a special, gifted person. You have my sincerest condolences.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Please, have a good night. I hope to see you again next year, Kandori-san. Keep up the good work.”

He saw the slightest quiver to Asuka’s lip before she got to her feet, holding out her hand. Hara-san gave it a good shake.

“I’ll do my best to be nominated once again. It was an honor to be here.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Hara-san. It was nice to meet you.”

Asuka stood there, watching Hara-san walk away. Kenta didn’t know what to say, thinking of Asuka’s abandoned acceptance speech on the floor of the Grand Ballroom. But there was no trace of sadness when she turned to look at him, nudging his foot with the tip of her shoe.

“I’m sick of this stuffy place, let’s go.”

—

Kenta shouldn’t have been surprised that his mother had invited Asuka to come by after the ceremony. They’d spent the ride back to the house, both on the train and on the bus, in silence, save for the vibrating interruption of Asuka’s phone. She was messaging back and forth with someone, and Kenta wondered if it was with her own mother.

As they walked up the street, lights were on in the Kurata home despite it being after 10:00 PM when his parents were usually preparing for bed. He unlocked the front door and let Asuka go in ahead of him. Once they were in the living room, Kenta was really grateful his mother and father hadn’t made any elaborate “Congratulations Asuka!” signs. Maybe Asuka had already told them that she’d lost.

His parents greeted Asuka with whispers, conveying apologies from Nana, who was already upstairs asleep. Asuka inclined her head, thanking them both for having read and enjoyed her article. His mom wrapped an arm around Asuka’s shoulder, bringing her into the kitchen to show her something. Kenta stayed where he was, undoing the button on his suit jacket, loosening his tie. It had been a long night.

Asuka let out a quiet noise of surprise, giving his mother a hug.

Kenta looked up, and Asuka pointed at the kitchen counter. “She made me a cake!” Asuka whispered, grinning from ear to ear.

A slice was already missing, packed in Nana’s lunch for the following day. The four of them still awake sat at the table. Kenta wanted to chide his mother for using green frosting, finding her commitment to color matching a little embarrassing, but Asuka looked so happy he couldn’t bear to say anything.

She sat beside him at the table, still in her fancy dress but with her feet in a cozy pair of Kurata family guest slippers. Conversation at the table was quiet, aside from his mother marveling about how “beautiful” Asuka looked.

“I mean, you’re always so lovely,” his mother babbled, “but oh, doesn’t she look just like a movie star, Kenta?”

Kenta had a big bite of cake in his mouth, could feel sugary green frosting coating his lips, and she thought now was a good time to ask such a thing? He took a sip of milk and nodded. “Yeah. Really nice.”

He heard Asuka chuckle quietly beside him, felt her slippered foot poke his ankle briefly before she thanked his mother for the compliment.

“I don’t want to keep you up past your bedtime,” she said, looking between his mother and father. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” his father insisted. “We’re proud of you.”

Kenta saw her turn bright red at that, and his parents said nothing more until his mother cleared the plates and milk glasses, telling Asuka that Nana had left some clothes out for her to borrow both for bed and in the morning. Another sleepover. Another thing arranged without his knowledge.

His parents headed upstairs for bed, and the house was soon quiet save for the scratch scratch scratch of Gasu doing his business in his litter box in a corner of the laundry room. Asuka declared that she was going to have a bath, disappearing into the bathroom with a pair of Nana’s pajamas tucked under her arm, looking so comfortable in doing so that it made Kenta’s stomach tie itself in knots.

He saw the last flash of green, the disappearance of movie star Asuka as she headed into the bathroom. He decided he’d just shower in the morning, eager to get upstairs and change out of his suit, feeling more like himself once he was in a t-shirt and sweats. His bed had fresh, clean sheets on it, and he dutifully left it behind, heading back downstairs for the pillow and blankets his mother had left for him on the loveseat.

A short time later, Asuka emerged, wearing Nana’s teddy bear shirt and matching shorts, scuffing quietly along the floor just as he was getting under the blankets. She stood behind the loveseat, peering over at him. She looked far more like the Asuka he knew, and he stared up at her, feeling the strangest urge to touch a strand of her hair now that it was down again.

“You don’t have to sleep down here. Your legs are sticking out over the edge,” she said, pointing down at how he was all bunched up.

“You’re the guest,” he whispered. 

She stared down at him. He stared up at her, the glow from the light in the kitchen that he still had to shut off leaving the slightest halo around her. He could smell familiar shampoo, familiar soap. She smelled like she belonged here. 

He didn’t want her to go upstairs just yet. He didn’t want to watch her leave in the morning. He wanted to sit with her here, with only the kitchen light on and their words hushed, talking until his voice gave out. It felt like a long road still stretched ahead of him, a long walk he still had to undertake to get to the end, to where Asuka was waiting and he could tell her how he felt about her. He wondered how she’d respond.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” he said.

“Apparently there were eighty-two stories submitted for the category. I’m surprised I made it.”

“I’m not,” he replied seriously, and he watched a look of uncertainty cross her face before she looked away. Her hand found his head, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Thank you.” She paused, as though trying to think of what she ought to say next. He held his breath, waiting for her. “Maybe I would have won if your dad came along, though.”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling.

Someday he’d have all the answers. Someday he’d know exactly how to tell her, exactly what to say. He’d find the courage that he knew he had in him somewhere, the courage that had helped him defend Nana. That had helped him look Nameless-san straight in the eye. He’d find it again because he wanted more nights like this.

She turned, heading to the kitchen and turning off the light for him.

“Good night, Kenta,” she said simply, and hearing his name on her lips, he realized that maybe she felt the same way he did. Maybe the road he had to walk was shorter than he anticipated. Maybe they’d meet somewhere in the middle. Someday.

“Good night.”

He listened to her walk back to the stairs, heading up to his room without him.


End file.
